


It Didn't Mean a Thing

by talksmaths



Series: fic prompts [19]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, M/M, Ryden, pretty odd era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 05:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15333033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talksmaths/pseuds/talksmaths
Summary: Brendon gets too drunk and does something he didn't mean to.





	It Didn't Mean a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> prompt:  
> "Are you drunk?"

Ryan laughed. "Are you  _drunk_?"

Brendon shook his head, but it only made Ryan smile wider. He was wasted.

It's not long after a show, and they, along with Spencer and Jon, have found their way into some party at someone's house someone knew. Ryan didn't care--there was alcohol.

Brendon had found that out pretty quickly.

Ryan had been sitting in the basement of the house, smoking a joint with a small circle of strangers and knocking back shots. His skin was bubbly and he was comfortably high enough that he felt both far away and still somehow drowning under his feet. Definitely fucked up.

Brendon tried to sit down next to Ryan on the floor, but he fell on his ass. Now other people in the circle were staring, watching, laughing, equally as fucked up. They didn't care that this was the frontman to the band--they were too far gone to care, or notice, or both.

Brendon sits up, resting a hand on Ryan's thigh as he plucks the joint from his lips, takes two puffs, and replaces it.

Despite being surrounded by people, Ryan feels alone with Brendon. Despite his drunkenness, Brendon's eyes never leave Ryan's.

Ryan passes the joint along to the next person, who takes it, starting a conversation with someone else in the loose circle. Taking Ryan's two empty hands as cue, he clumsily climbs into Ryan's lap and kisses his forehead. Not far away, a stupidly drunk Spencer eggs Brendon on with wolf-whistling. Ryan laughs, and Brendon cups his cheeks. Though he can't balance, Brendon's eyes are dark with a certain solemnity.

Ryan has time to blink before Brendon presses a kiss against his lips, tangling his fingers in Ryan's hair, and licking inside his mouth.

Ryan thinks the room has gone silent, but when Brendon pulls away, pupils blown and lips parted, the noise rushes back, and Brendon grins, looking above Ryan and at Spencer, who is laughing hysterically. He gets up to join Spencer, leaving Ryan red-faced and alone in the circle.

Everyone is staring at him. Ryan's face goes even redder.

 

 

 

 

 

In the early hours of the morning they finally leave, heading back to their bus. Brendon's sobered up quite a bit now that the nausea's hit, and when he's alone with Brendon--they take a cab back together--he mutters something:

"Sorry. Was really drunk."

For a second, Ryan thinks he was just referring to Brendon puking almost in his lap before they left, but he catches Brendon's eyes. He's apologizing for something else.

He's sorry he kissed Ryan.

"I know," Ryan says. It's not funny. Not anymore.

They both turn to look out the windows on their respective sides. Brendon presses his forehead to the cool glass, probably to relieve him of his overheated body, Ryan thinks. There's only inches between them, but Ryan feels impossibly isolated.


End file.
